Date: Tue, 06 Sep 2005 21:29:00 -0400
From: AJ Taylor
Subject: Mask of Brutality- II
Standard legal stuff applies. Once again, horny people
should look elsewhere. Don't complain if you don't find it.
I should point out that some people have misinterpreted the
title of this story simply because I used the word
`brutality'. "Oh goodness," they must say to themselves,
"any story with a title like that must be filled with
violence and nonconsensual sex!" Half of them then proceed
to pull down their pants and whip out their willies in
turgid anticipation. The other half must think, "The title
sounds horrid, but the story is rather pacific. Ergo, this
story is inappropriately named. How brilliant I must be: I
will celebrate with fresh fruit and Chianti and bask in my
genius."
I'm afraid I'll have to spoil you all a little and say that
these people are terribly mistaken. Instead of focusing on
the word brutality, one should really emphasize the word
mask: it is, after all, the subject in the title. What mask
could brutality possibly use to disguise its pain? More
importantly, are there forms of brutality beyond the
physical and can they be just as impairing? Sorry to sound
like an English teacher, but I really would like people to
stop and think about the meaning of words before jumping to
conclusions.
* * *
Working with AJ became the highlight of my week, not just
because he had grown on me, but also because we'd spend the
hours goofing off. We'd get magazines and cut out pictures
of supermodels and start mixing and matching different
faces, torsos, and legs. Halle Berry with Jessica Simpson's
legs and Kirstie Alley's body: that's some nasty shit right
there. The customers always thought we were a pair of
immature hooligans, but we couldn't really deny it.
Sometimes I'd throw ice at him, only to have him retaliate
by shoving it down my shirt. Like I said, stupid shit.
"That's why I like you, James," he told me. "I can do all
sorts of dumb shit like toss things at you." He chucked a
piece of a bagel at me then continued.
"If I did it with anyone else, they'd look at me like I was
moron and tell me to cut it out. They don't fight back, but
you do. It's awesome."
I threw the bagel piece back at him and it hit him on the
shoulder. "You skanky little bitch," I laughed- which was
generally the way we spoke to each other. I had bits of
bagel crumbs strewn over my shirt. So did he.
"I don't think I'm the bitch around here, James," he
replied, giving me the evil eye. And the cheeky grin.
So he liked me because I'm the only one he can act like a 6-
year old with. I can live with that. It also explained how
we'd come up with a different game to play every week- after
he beat me at Othello with a set we found in one of the
bookshelves. I hate to lose. There was this one week,
though, when I thought he was on crack, because the game he
suggested sounded absolutely wretched.
"Ok," he said. "So the way it works is that we both drink
whatever the customers order. We'll make a list of
everything ordered and we'll see how many we can go
through."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"Oh come on, it'll be fun."
"I dunno," I said, hesitating. This was such a bad idea,
but he was giving me that pout and I could never say no to
him anyway. It's a good thing I never let him know that.
"Is this some sort of contest or something, like who can
last the longest?"
"Nah, let's think of it as an investigation. How much can
you chug? It's like a biological mystery, and we're going
to find out." He couldn't stop grinning.
"We're gonna get so sick."
"You wussing out?"
"We'll be going to the bathroom every 2 minutes."
"You're not wussing out are you?"
"Can you imagine drinking 4 smoothies in a row?"
"Wuss."
"Start drinking, bitch."
* * *
We kept a running tab of all the beverages we had to drink.
The iced coffee and black tea were ok, despite AJ yelling at
me to chug half of the coffee in five seconds. The
cappuccino was a bit tougher and soon I felt the milk churn
in my stomach, mixing with the other fluids. AJ took his
first bathroom break after I gave him a ribbing about the
size of his bladder. Then we started on fruit smoothies.
It was getting painful. We were sitting on chairs, groaning
slightly with our drinks half finished, when Monica walked
in to check on us.
"What are you guys doing?"
"We're playing a game," AJ answered, holding his stomach,
and still looking slightly queasy.
"What sort of game?"
"One where we have to drink one of everything the customer
orders."
"That's disgusting!" Monica screamed. "You guys are going
to make yourselves sick!"
"Too late," I moaned.
Monica fumed. "You do realize," she said, "that you have to
pay for all those drinks you've had."
AJ and I looked at each other. He had the expression of a 5-
year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar. I'm
certain that my face looked somewhat similar. I wished that
I had cash in my wallet. I also wished that Monica would
disappear so I could run to the bathroom and pee. Alas, she
gave me no respite for either.
"Umm, we're sorry Monica; we won't do it again." Apparently
AJ thought acting like a little kid would get him further in
life. All he needed to do now was pucker his lips and bat
his eyes. Silly him; that trick only works on me.
"You two are hopeless!" She stormed out of the store. Well,
I guess AJ's little sycophantic tirade work, after a
fashion. I raced to the bathroom.
So ended the first and last time that game would ever be
played. We hung the list of drinks we had consumed in the
office so that everyone else could stare and envy our
tremendous accomplishment and stomachs of steel. Either
that, or laugh at our immense stupidity. We spent the rest
of the shift on our asses, talking about how
amazing/unhealthy our little episode was. It's a good thing
I'm naturally skinny, or all those calories would have made
me more nauseous than I already was. The last thing I
needed was a beer-belly, or a coffee-belly in this case.
"So who won?" I asked.
"Does it really matter?" he replied. "We're the first and
only players! We forged a new a path in the annals of
coffee history! This is monumental occasion!"
"I guess it's a good thing there'll be no one after us. I
wouldn't want to anyone else to suffer the agony I went
through."
"Wuss."
"Whatever, I won."
The games which followed thereafter were all more subdued.
We learned our lesson.
* * *
I was heading home from my internship when I decided to stop
by the coffeehouse. AJ was working at the time, and I
wanted to ask if he was going to the party later tonight.
Well, that and I wanted an excuse to see him again (I had
memorized his work schedule, sue me). On my way, I ran into
two of my housemates, Phoebe and Sara, who joined me in
search of caffeine. I guess I should also say that my house
was inhabited by four girls and a trophy gay guy: me.
Sometimes I think I was some sort of status symbol to these
girls, like living with a gay man was the new hip thing in
town. Still, they were great, and living with them was a
lot of fun.
We entered the store and saw AJ at the register. I did the
introductions, and while my housemates were pondering over
the menu, I popped the question.
That is, I asked him if he was going tonight, not for his
hand in holy matrimony.
"Hey, you gonna show up tonight?"
"Dude, free beer," he said. "I'm there."
Sometimes he can be so simple.
Back home, Phoebe and Sara told our other housemates, Mairi
and Angie, about the cute guy who was my coworker. They
were all genuinely interested, but I was a bit annoyed at
their attention. He was mine damn it! I have a tendency to
be a bit possessive. Their teasing was nevertheless
relentless.
"So James, you should ask him out," Mairi said. She had
that tone of voice were she sounded half-genuine, half-
sadistic.
"Hey," Phoebe piped in, "couldn't you make him walk around
in just an apron or something? I mean, you are his
manager."
"You're such a perv Phoebe," I said. "And no, I'm not going
to ask him out."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't think he likes boys."
"In that case," replied Mairi, "Ange can have him." She
looked quite content with herself.
"That's right, Angie can have him," I said, turning to go to
my room. "He's all yours, Ange. Don't do anything I
wouldn't do."
The girls continued to giggle amongst themselves as I went
upstairs. I wasn't too concerned- they always did this
whenever they met anyone who they thought was cute. Angie
probably wouldn't do anything, she wasn't much of an outside
person in the first place. Those were my housemates: all
talk and no action. Meanwhile, I was no talk and no action.
I wonder who was better off.
I took a shower, downed a quick dinner, then watched TV for
a bit, waiting for the party to start. I walked the short
distance from my place. By now, AJ and I were regulars at
keg nights and virtually any party we got wind of over the
summer. We never showed up together, but whenever we'd spot
each other in the crowd, we would proceed to holler out the
other's name. It was usually followed by a string of
expletives. We were so affectionate to each other.
"James, you fucker! Get over here!"
"Hey AJ, how's it going?"
"Good, now here's your beer. Drink up."
AJ was with Zach, a mutual friend, beside the keg. Easy
access, I guessed, and moved to join them. Zach was
apparently asking AJ how work was treating him so far.
"Pretty good, man. It's a lot of fun."
"Really, that's awesome," Zach said. "Hey, I didn't know
you knew James here."
"Yeah," AJ smiled. "James and I have a shift together." He
draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in a bit
closer.
"Yup, we're both a bunch of dumbasses," I laughed, downing
my beer quickly. His touch was making me nervous.
Maybe it was just the glow of the alcohol, but with him
beside me, I felt warm and content. He was leaning on me
slightly, and my elbow would occasionally bump his side. It
wasn't pudgy; that's a good sign. I resisted the urge to
snuggle closer, but this effort came at the cost of not
paying attention to conversation.
". so what's it like, AJ, working with this doofus here?"
"James? Man, it's the best. We got the coolest shift
ever." I felt him squeeze my arm slightly. He turned to me
with a lop-sided grin and winked.
Straight guys don't wink at other guys, do they?
I mean, who the hell winks at anyone in the first place?
Sure, there's the sneaky wink you sometimes give to someone
when you're both in the know, but it always looks dumb.
Winking looks more like you got dust in your eye or a
nervous twitch, and I always thought that people were being
really corny or stupid whenever they winked- except when he
did it. This time it was different.
It seemed at first like a little conspiratorial jig that we
got to enjoy just between ourselves. After all, only a
couple of immature buffoons like us could truly appreciate
the opportunity to wreck havoc on a fine coffee
establishment together. But yet, that twinkle in his eye
suggested something more. It excited me, but terrified me
as well- as if there was more he was conveying more than
just our working together. As if we had something going on
between the two of us that no one else knew. It was our
little secret.
But what was going on, exactly?
Maybe I was just reading into things too much and creating
meaning where meaning shouldn't exist. We were, after all,
at a party, and beer is a good alibi for just about
anything. Perhaps it was just an innocent wink- if such
winks exist- and it meant nothing more than to emphasize the
point he made. My crush on him could be the culprit, making
me fabricate stories that would feed my infatuation. I was
probably a fool to be thinking so much about this and
misinterpreting it so.
I excused myself from the throng in search of fresh air and
space to think. The beer made my head ache slightly, so I
sat down on the steps of the front porch. I could still
hear noises coming from the din within, but my only company
outside were the fireflies. Sighing, I stretched my legs
out and chucked the rest of my drink into the bushes- I
didn't feel like drinking anymore. Part of me still wanted
to go back in there and be with AJ, but I realized that
would have been a bad idea. I had resolved not to read into
this too much, because it was stupid. Seeing AJ again might
undo that. I didn't want my imagination to get the best of
me.
I must have looked like an utter social reject, sitting
alone and upset because a guy winked at me. That thought
made me laugh at myself; I was being really pathetic. Then
again, it's not like I had ever kissed a guy before, let
alone have been in a relationship. Hell, I haven't even
held hands with someone. What do I know about couples and
things guys do together outside of romantic comedies and
friends running to me to complain about how their boyfriends
aren't paying enough attention to them? Clueless about
courtship, I really didn't want to fuck up my friendship
with a guy I really liked by thinking that he liked me back.
I should be realistic and accept what I already have and not
hope for something that wasn't going to happen.
"So this is where you ran off to."
The sound of AJ's voice behind me made me shiver. I wanted
to run, but I also wanted to turn just to look at him. God,
I'm so sappy. He sat down next to me; we were so close our
knees were almost touching. The steps were rather narrow in
the first place, or at least I thought they were. It was
dark, but I could still make out his face with a curious
expression on it. His hair was messy, with long strands
partially obscuring the left side of his face. The moon
made his eyes shine.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "I just needed to get away from the crowd
for a sec. It gets a bit suffocating in there, you know?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. And some of those guys there
are total asses who just wanna get drunk and annoy the shit
out of people."
I chuckled. "Like me?"
"Nah, you're cool," He said, giving me a small pat on the
back. He let out a small belch. His breath still reeked of
beer and I frowned at the smell. He laughed at my
discomfort.
"Really, AJ, I'm flattered that I met those high standards
of yours." When nervous, I resort to sarcasm. Actually, I
resort to sarcasm all the time, so I guess nerves have
nothing to do with it.
"Bastard. But seriously, I just want you to know that this
had been a great summer so far and part of it is because of
you. You're a good guy, James."
I never know what to say when someone praises me like that,
it makes me feel awkward, so I just kept silent. Hopefully,
he'd change the subject to some pointless banter so I'd feel
more comfortable. Shallow talk is my specialty; this deep
shit is not my forte. What made it especially odd was that
this was coming from AJ, who was possibly just as
emotionally retarded as I was. Neither of us ever talked
about anything of import. For me, it was a way of
deflecting difficult questions like why I don't have a
boyfriend. I tended to hide behind a wall of immaturity and
a happy-go-lucky attitude which would conceal my total lack
of self-esteem. Maybe he had the same problem too- minus
the lack of boyfriend and self-esteem. Maybe we were more
alike than appearances would make us seem. Maybe we were
two guys alone at a party because those walls we built
around us were too tall to peer over.
Maybe I'm delusional.
I obviously was too lost in my own thoughts to notice AJ
still next to me. If he was talking the whole time, I
didn't even hear a word he said. He didn't seem to notice
though. In fact, he was just looking forward with a blank
expression, as if deep in thought. He looked so different
when he was serious; it was almost sad. We were two closet
thinkers it seems. He turned though, and that look
vanished, replaced by his usual cocky smile. Yet even then
he seemed more subdued, as if the smile was not wholly
genuine.
"Well, I think it's time for me to be heading back. You
coming?" He knew that I lived in the same direction, so I
guess it made sense for us to walk back together. I doubted
that either of us wanted to go back to the party indoors.
"Yeah, sounds good," I said, rising from the porch with a
yawn. "I'm kinda sleepy anyways."
"You could crash at my place if you want; it's closer."
I was tempted to jump at the opportunity to spend the night
with him, however non-coital it may be. My prudence,
though, got the best of me. Going home with him wouldn't
have been the best remedy for my ego, besides.
"Nah, I think I'll be fine. My place isn't much farther."
"Sure."
We walked the short distance without saying anything, the
silence filled with the sound of crickets and the leaves
crunching under our feet. It had been a strange night, and
I just wanted to go to bed and stop thinking entirely. He
turned the corner to his place without saying a word, just a
nod of the head. I smiled in return and then walked home.
That night I dreamt that I held his hand.
* * *
Thanks to everyone who's written to me, it's really great to
hear what you guys think. If you've got something to say
(other than complaints about the lack of sweaty man-sex, I
already warned you) give me a holler:
projectilepolly@hotmail.com